DeanneBrooke.com » lyrics http://deannebrooke.com Arts & Letters Fri, 21 Feb 2014 20:50:13 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=3.8.41 I Don’t Care (Lonesome Road) – Alana Davis http://deannebrooke.com/2011/04/i-dont-care-lonesome-road-alana-davis/ http://deannebrooke.com/2011/04/i-dont-care-lonesome-road-alana-davis/#comments Mon, 18 Apr 2011 20:39:19 +0000 http://deannebrooke.com/?p=117 Soul, driving down this lonesome road

Somewhere…somewhere, someone’s waiting

You’re leaving with a part of me

Stolen…stolen time that once was mine

Precious words we left unheard

Desert me and deceive me, but I don’t care

I don’t care anymore

You love me then you leave me, but I don’t care

I don’t care anymore

Heart, stepping through the door alone

Somewhere…somewhere, someone’s longing

Smiled, someone at the red light smiled

Saved me, saved me from my inner strife

Baby, he just saved my life

Desert me and deceive me, but I don’t care…

I don’t care anymore.

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]]> http://deannebrooke.com/2011/04/i-dont-care-lonesome-road-alana-davis/feed/ 0 Wish My Eyes to Blue http://deannebrooke.com/2010/01/wish-my-eyes-to-blue/ http://deannebrooke.com/2010/01/wish-my-eyes-to-blue/#comments Mon, 04 Jan 2010 21:22:59 +0000 http://deannebrooke.com/?p=47 If you don’t believe in the lyrics, I don’t know why you sing along.
I can still remember that sunset and the sound of the little waves breaking on the side of the boat-
it’s always the music and his shoes and his sweatshirt…it’s his brother telling me I can wish my eyes to blue…
and that anytime I’m ever cold I can just wear his coat.
I believed in the words though, you know…and I still believe them today.  I can still weave all of the threads together-
I could never truly turn you away.  The end of the rope is like the seawall at the lake-it’s the end of the line and it’s too much to take.  No one ever wants to go in, they just want to buy more time.  They want to see you say hi again…they don’t want you to turn yourself in.
That shiny blue bowl with the water running over…that’s the one stormy thing that makes me think of you.  Your glasses and your black bathing suit…and your breathing getting slower.  It was all of those ghost stories I think-making the laps around the house in the dark disappear as soon as our swollen fears started to sink.
You with your beauty mark and me with brown eyes-
you had a few inches on me, but we were both caught up in opposing side’s lines.
But then sidelines and Starry Eyes and a broken rib or two at the lake-
he was never the one who broke the rules, but the blame was all set out up there-and the ghost stories were piling up, but they were undoubtedly only mine to take.
It was me who was holding your head when you had fallen down-
it was me who was so excited when I heard that you would be coming around.
It rained that first day you came.
I wonder now if you would recognize me on the street.  I wonder if you’d remember that I didn’t have a beauty mark-
but maybe in its place…I had a middle name.
d.b.r.
1.4.2010
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